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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

®m- ®m*W %o.-~- 

— — /#?r 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



WITH BIRDS 

AND FLOWERS 



BY 



/ 



ISAAC BASSETT CHOATE 



" One side small birds singing, 

On the other, fresh flowers springing.' 



Old Song. 






NEW YORK 



X895 



OCT lt> 

mm iuha 

ho[me journal print /"J If I I 






Copyright, 1895, by Isaac Bassett Choate. 



Contents. 

Page 

Pine Grosbeak 9 

Alder Bloom 11 

Snow Buntings 12 

Pussy -Willow 4 

Kinglet 15 

Saxifrage 16 

Bluebird , 17 

Hepaticas 18 

Pine Linnet 20 

Anemones 21 

Redwing Blackbirds 22 

Mayflowers 23 

Brown Titlark 24 

Dandelions 25 

Robin 27 

Violets 28 

Cuckoo . 29 

Speedwell 31 

Welcoming the Swallow 32 

Innocents 33 

Chipping Sparrow 35 

Andromeda 36 

Woodpecker 37 

Heartsease 33 

Warbler and Titmouse 43 



Content*. 

v Mm 

.\v)i'u.Koi.\ y 

Fui.p Sr u;iu'\\ i ' 

KXHCKJUMI i ; 

Orioli u 

PANSIflB U< 

Bong Sp uukw it 

Ami- Blossoms is 

Vi ti;\ 

1U' riviiri i's ;,l 

JrNNir Wut n J ; 

1 LDT*8 Si.irrn; ,i 

Ni ruuvii 68 

lUi;mi;i;\ . . ; H ; 

On BOBOLXNI QbOUND 

Mru\m Oi;vm's Hu.i R 

VXBBO 60 

Pbimrosi || 

VtaSFKRB \m> M.vriNs 

Sin Prw ,; ; 

Win it- niiuvvrrn Stakkow t'-l 

l.vniii 

Night Hawk qj 

MvHsr Kvi; GBXQK1 rrn gj 

Whxppoobwiu n 

WiXBB l.u.irs 71 



< OIllfllfN. 

liAltK 7'2 

78 

B I SWALLO ■ . 71 

i 76 

CSDAB BlBD 77 

Wooi» BOBBEL 7H 

lMP SPABBOW T.) 

SWEET CloVEB BO 

Bli i. Hebon 81 

Pi PA GeNISTJ 

Wabbling Gbeenlei i 

Swamp it i go 

Swallow's Flight :»i 

Pitches I 

Phoebi ; 

' i.i 1ATW 

Thbush's Lvllabx 96 

'I ■■ r I LOWEB >.)i 

iLOW BlBD ■,■ 

BOW 100 

Wooo THBU0H j',1 

HU8A8 

d Pipes 104 

POBGET- Mi. Rtfl 

IIi;.mmino BlBD ](,., 



Contents* 

Page 

MlTCIIF.LLA 107 

J?E-WlT, Pe-WEE 108 

Sweet-Briar 109 

Bobolinks in 

Nodding Thistle no 

Kingbird 114 

St. John's Wort L15 

Yellow-Throated Wabbler 116 

Sabebells 117 

Vespeb Spabbow us 

Sweet Mab [golds 119 

Klngfishee 120 

Bob White ... L21 

Habdhace 123 

Speeding the Swallow 124 

Cardinal -Flowers.. 125 

Blue Jay 126 

Golden - Bod 127 

Blackbirds L28 

fbinged q entians 129 

Pubple Finch 131 

A.STEBS 132 

Brown Creepee 133 

Witoh-Hazel Bloom 134 

Chick -a - dee 135 



PINE GEOSBEAK. 

Beneath the lowering skies 

Low-hanging, cold and gray, 
The frozen runnel lies 
A voiceless stream to-day ; 
Its life went with the summer bird, 
In nature now no song is heard, 
No strains of music rise 
From spirits light and gay. 

The falling flakes of snow, 
On downy pinions white 
Light dancing to and fro, 
Affect a mimic flight ; 
They gather as the birds in flocks 
Low hover over sands and rocks 
Uncertain where to go, 
Uncertain where to light. 



10 



To bramble by the wall, 
Dry grass and golden-rod, 

Sweet fern and thistle tall, 

Milkweeds of silky pod, 

There comes another flock so gay 

Of grosbeaks from the north to-day; 

With merry note they call, 

Greet us with wink and nod. 

Warm-hearted northern bird, 

A new-year's wish you bring, 
No other song is heard, 
Is seen no other wing; 
How warm the colors of your dress ! 
This gloomy day our eyes they bless; 
Had I the fitting word, 
Your praises would I sing. 



ALDEE BLOOM. 

Still pussy-willow folds her hands 

Close wrapped in muff of snowy fur, 
Knee-deep in snow impatient stands 

Awaiting earliest bee astir. 
There seems no other bush awake 

Along the margin of the stream, 
No stir of sap is felt to break 

The magic of the winter's dream. 

Now lady birch from melting snow 

Lifts trailing robe with dainty hand 
Lithe alder bushes, bending low, 

In reverence about her stand. 
While birch and willow hesitate 

To choose a color to their taste, 
These ardent beaux, without debate, 

Their tasseled gold put on in haste. 



11 



SNOW BUNTINGS. 

Brave hearts ! bold spirits stoutly venturing forth 

From the inclement North ! 

Your slender, graceful forms 

Braving the winter's cold, the winter's icy storms 

Late coming with the biting winds that blow, 

That drive the falling snow, 

Whirling it everywhere, 

With giddy dancing flakes filling the darkened air, 

You bring into the gloom of these short days 

Bright thoughts of sunny rays 

To light our landscape soon, 

To kindle to a burning heat our summer's noon. 

Nurslings of snow and ice, on frozen ground 

Your lone home nest is found, 

Beside the Polar Si>a 

Where groans and moans the ice in agony. 

Perchance in all your life you have not seen 

The fields and forests green; 

Seen maple buds unfold 

And dandelions weave rare cloth of gold. 



12 



IS 



You have not heard, perchance, the running streams, 

Nor in your happiest dreams 

The liquid music heard 

With which on summer eve wooes kindred bird. 

What charms can we not offer for delay, 

If you will only stay 

Till the blithe swallow comes,— 

Till round the orchard trees the honey-storer hums! 

Then shall you watch, delighted at the sight, 

The swallow's darting flight; 

With wonder then shall see 

Bright rainbow-colored butterfly and bee. 

Then shall there flash before your dazzled eyes 

The wealth of tropic dyes 

On ruby-throat;— but no, 

You would be homesick for the pure white snow! 



PUSSY-WILLOW. 

A dream of blossoms in the orchard trees, 
Of flowers bright in garden and in field, 

Of sweets distilled within the cups of these, 
Of stores of honeyed nectar they will yield ; 

A dream of sunshine filling earth and skies, 
Of sweetest fragrance borne on summer breeze, 

Of birds familiar and of butterflies, 
Haunts in their cells the winter-sleeping bees. 

A dream of bluebirds coming back in spring,— 
Some flecks of color fallen from the sky,— 

Of merry songs the wrens and linnets sing, 
Of cricket's chirp and swallow's twittering cry ; 

A dream of waters singing as they go, 
Where over bending grass they softly slip, 

Of her own beauty seen in pools below, 
Thrills Pussy- Willow to each downy tip. 

For dreams like these the willow cannot sleep, 
Nor bee rest easy in his cloister cell; 

Both wake at once from slumber long and deep:— 
One common thought gives common life as well. 



14 



KINGLET. 

With best of rights has Nature crowned you king, 

For while we say, " Poor little chilly thing, 

Waiting as we for spring!" 

You then begin to sing, 

And all the pine woods with the music ring. 

How with delight our weary souls are stirred 

To see your royal person ruffed and furred! 

Your sweet song plainly heard 

Conies as prophetic word 

To tell of summer flower, of summer bird. 

Beneath the sheltering pine, the hemlock tree, 

All winter long your busy life we see, 

Mark well how you agree 

With comrades two or three; 

Blithe neighbor, you, of wren and chickadee. 

With joy through falling flakes do we behold 

Your flaming crown of orange set in gold, 

Worn with an air as bold 

As, in midwinter cold, 

Wears titmouse jaunty cap in field and wold. 

Midsummer with its ardor does not please, 

With you the rigor of the North agrees; 

But when our rivers freeze 

You quit the Arctic seas — 

Come here to stay with us, with chickadees. 



15 



SAXIFRAGE. 

Pale nurslings of the early waking year, 
Forerunners of the coming spring, 
Shy creeping round the edge 
Of broken granite ledge 
Soon as the drifts of winter disappear; 
Your tender rootlets fondly cling 
Close in the frost-made rifts, 
Your slender stalk uplifts 
Sweet clustering flowers of hope our waiting hearts to 
cheer. 

You claim no favored spot of meadow ground 
Where violets and daisies grow, 
But o'er earth's bosom bare 
You softly venture where 
No other seemly covering would be found; 
You brave the wintry winds that blow 
Through withered grasses sere, 
Wait patiently to hear 
Young bright -eyed, golden buttercups glad waken all 
around. 



16 



BLUEBIRD. 

The summer sunshine filtering through 

The birch trees leaning o'er the stream, 
Falls flashing bright on waters blue, 

In flecks that to my fancy seem 
White lilies bathed in morning dew,— 
Sweet image true, 
Dear Love, of you,— 
As on the river's breast they dream. 

Upon the mossy bank I lie 

And, looking upward through the trees, 
See fleecy clouds go drifting high 

Upon the tether's azure seas, 
Calm sailing on before my eye, 
Till cloud and sky 
Are rippled by 
The light leaves veering in the breeze. 

This minds me of that wintry day,— 

The winds of March were blustering, 
The snow-flakes, joined in frolic gay, 

Whirled round in many a magic ring; 
A rift of blue shot through their play- 
More mad than they, 
I hailed that day 
The bluebird, harbinger of spring. 



17 



HEPATICAS. 

Shyest of Nature's brood, 

Retreating to the wood, 
Just at its edge a refuge have ye found ; 

Like partridge chicks in fright, 

Keeping yourselves from sight 
Under the dry leaves scattered on the ground; 

Ye would not shrink so much 

From our fond sight and touch 
If only our hearts' feeling could be known; 

We wait with watching eyes 

To mark your mild surprise 
That, coming early, ye come not alone. 

The bluebird yesterday 

Came flying home this way, 
He piped his very sweetest song of you ; 

In fullest faith and love 

We are now come to prove 
That bluebird's prophecy shall turn out true. 



18 



19 



W< ; push the leaves away, 

And there In silken gray- 
Has Nature swaddled tenderly your forms; 

Open for us your eyes! 

Look to the April skies 
Blue as in summer after heavy storms! 

Within the opening lid 

A thought of blue is hid, 
A memory of skies watched long ago; 

A dream ye fondly kept 

All that long night ye slept 
Beneath the downy coverlets of snow. 



PINE LINNET. 

High up among the dark green boughs of pine 
That lift and sway in breath of passing breeze, 
Hang sweet-toned harps asolian, 'mong the trees 

They voice a spirit's mood akin to mine; 

A mood of sober reverie and thought 
Close bordering on the mystery of dreams 
In which the memory of childhood seems 

A picture from the Land Eternal brought. 

Low chiming with tnat wind -played melody, 
A soft, sweet, sympathetic song is heard, 
The tender outburst of a tuneful bird 

Whose slender note swells Nature's harmony. 

Shy linnet in the pine tops high above, 
We watch thee flitting oft from bough to bough, 
We listen to thy cheerful singing now, 

A heartfelt note in Nature's song of love. 

Was it the summer wind's bewitching voice 
That called thee to the pine woods lone to-day 
As it so often calls myself this way 

To hear a world of innocence rejoice ? 



ANEMONES. 

Fair children of the youthful spring, 
Whose forms so slender rock and swing 

In March winds roughly blowing; 
Our summer friends are on the wing, 
Already merry bluebirds sing, 

The brookside flag is growing. 

Ye brave the cold and squally skies 
In bleak and open fields where flies 

The cloud's unresting shadow; 
Where wasting drift by stone wall lies, 
And slow the oozing water dries 

From brown grass-matted meadow. 

Where strongest blows the chilly blast 
On eastern slopes your lot is cast, 

There do ye wait contented; 
By wood hepaticas are massed; 
In sunny corners sheltered fast 

Are dandelions tented. 

As videttes are ye posted out 

The guard advanced of summer's scout, 

Her corps of observation; 
Your snow-white petals boldly flout 
Ensigns of Winter in a rout; 

He yields his domination. 



21 



REDWING BLACKBIRDS. 

On tiptoe leafless birch and willow stand 
In alder swamp half water and half land, 
Their slender twigs just showing- faintest green, 

While down among the dead and broken Hags, 

Impatient of the spring that idly lags, 
Thick sprouting shoots are seen 

Pushing the leaves aside ; 
As, waking on the sunny slopes of ground, 
Anemones and liverworts are found 

With violets blue -eyed. 

Now comes a flock of redwings chattering wild, 

As happy in their coming as the child 

That welcomes to the North the summer bird, 

When all the winter long in field and grove 

No gaily painted wing was seen to move, 
No gushing song was heard 

Filling the world with glee, 
As now do blackbirds from the ash tree tall 
Ten thousand times repeat their noisy call, 

"Chur-ree, chur-ree, chur-ree!" 



MAYFLOWEKS. 

Sleeping, soundly sleeping in Nature's close em- 
bracing, 
Quiet lie the daisies beneath the downy snow ; 
Leaping, gaily leaping, in maddest frolic racing, 
Squirrels weave the mazes of footprints to and 
fro. 

Creeping, softly creeping, oh, so shy and fearful ! 
Grope the mayflowers blindly beneath the fallen 
leaves ; 
Weeping, sorely weeping, oh, so sad and tear- 
ful! 
Bending low and kindly the sky of April grieves. 

Keeping, closely keeping as a jealous lover, 
Nature's breast affrighted conceals her precious 

prize ; 
Peeping, coyly peeping through the wet leaves' 

cover, 
To a world delighted Mayflower opes her eyes. 



23 



BBOWN T1TLAKK. 

Soon jis the measured Btroke we hoar 
Of northward Dying fowl in spring, 
Dear little titlark's piping blear 
Ohimea bo with notes of hearty cfheer 
Whioh merry bluebirds sing. 

We know not If from oast or west, 

From south or north, he took his tli^ht 
Titlark is here as nuu'h at rest 
As if this spot, ho lovoil the host, 

ii<> Is oontented quite. 

As busy as the prudent bee, 
(M* spirits ever Light and gay, 

Ho so much llattors ns that, we 

Are in the hope confirmed that he 

All summer long will stay. 

But when brisk robin's oaii we hear, 

When blackbirds ehattor later on, 

in gladdest season of the year, 
While day by day now friends appear, 
Behold, titlark is gone! 



u 



DANDELIONS. 

Dear gipsy flowers that love *<> well 
To aelghbor vviih the pimpernel, 
By trodden paths of men u> dwell 

in humble guise, 
STour lives and fortunes plainly tell 

That ye are wise. 

Soon as the snowdrifts disappear, 
We And you thickly [looking here 
As bluebirds come with notes of cheer, 

Willi SOngS Of M.-iy; 

Until the waning of the year 
Wii h us ye stay. 

Grouped on the greensward here and thei 
STour tents are pitched with little care 
( >niy to shun the ohilly air 

From north lands Mown, 
\ "in- courts kept open i" the Calr 

Round miiii at noon. 



Fearless of morning's robber bold 
Who steals the pearls your petals hold, 
Your wealth of nightly hoarded gold 

Ye wide display, 
And all your treasure rich unfold 

To light of day. 

Gay buttercups and golden -rod, 
Of gentle mien, with gracious nod 
Greet you uplooking from the sod, 

But fixed your gaze 
Upon the sun's round face and broad 

Through summer days. 

On Earth's green mantle set as bright 
As spangles on the robe of Night, 
Daily up -springing to our sight, 

To you 'tis given 
In myriad groups to rival quite 

The stars of heaven. 



BOBIN. 

Adown the field the ploughman whistling goes, 

One foot upon the sod one in the furrow, 
The robin hops along, companion close, 

In search of worm turned out of winter burrow 
One thinking of the bairns he loves the best 

At home within the tender care of mother, 
Poor little fledglings chirping in the nest 

Unceasing anxious cares give to the other. 

Both happy as the bright hours of the day, 

Kejoicing each in other as a neighbor, 
Both conscious of the love that doth repay 

The careful, wearying toil of daily labor; 
The burden of both hearts is borne by song 

Light on the summer breeze, in music swelling, 
Sweet notes that simple melody prolong, 

Of home and homely joys how plainly telling! 



27 



VIOLETS. 

Sweet nestlings in the hearts of living men 
Who love you for yourselves, and yet again, 
Because their mothers loved you in their youth 
When, toiling in the meadows as toiled Kuth 
Among the reapers of the golden corn, 
They loved your bloom as, later, their first-born. 

Spring's darlings are ye, yet all summer through, 
Through all the winter time is Nature true 
To tender thoughts of violets in the grass, 
Not from her memory does your sweetness pass; 
When Spring returns, the blue of April skiec 
Just matches blue we see in your soft eyes. 

When in your beds ye wake from slumber sound, 
See dandelions waking all around! 
See how on bending stems their green cups hold 
Their old-time store of bright, untarnished gold! 
See, in this April sky, last April's blue ! 
Believe as little changed men's love for you ! 



28 



CUCKOO. 

What do I hear? 
Is it from far or near? 
Is it upon the left or right, 
From down below or from the height, 
The sound of any living, vocal thing? 
Or is it only the vain conjuring 

Of artist Fancy shaping large and clear 
"What dryads hear? 

It seems the beat 
Of silence - sandalled feet 
As Echo flies from hill to hill, 
Across the vale, across the rill; 
She bears that note as soft as is the flight 
Of owl low shadowing a mouse at night, 

That sound mysterious she doth repeat 
From lone retreat. 



29 



I wonder who 

Would think that low "Cuckoo!" 
From April's budding thickets heard, 
Was call of any waiting bird 
That had outstripped its fellows on the wing 
In eager haste to herald coming Spring? 
Its faint voice calling, soft and low, 
"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" 

Who only knew 
The calling of cuckoo 
Might think he listened to the ghost 
Of some voice in these shadows lost: 
The loneliness embodied in that tone 
Seems by itself to wander all alone 

The deep recesses of the woodlands through, 
Calling, "Cuckoo!" 



SPEEDWELL. 

Fair flowers, modest, shy, 

In depths of billowy meadow grasses hiding, 
And yet worn footpaths nigh 

Is found the wonted place of your abiding 
To watch with curious gaze the passer-by! 

Your eyes, wide open, tell 
In tone of Saxon blue your heart's warm feeling: 

As from the hermit's cell 
Shines midnight lamp his piety revealing, 

The fragrant breath of flowers bids me, "Speed well ! ' 

How gladly fain would I 

This long bright summer's day in dreaming squander, 
Among the flowers lie, 

My footsteps ceasing for a space to wander, 
But cares of love force me to say, "Good-bye!" 



31 



WELCOMING THE SWALLOW. 

Across tho land, across the spacious sea, 
One course unchanging: kept all that long: way, 
More than a thousand miles since yesterday 

Have you from tropic climes come back to me. 

Not pausing: in that flight until you saw 
The broad -roofed barn with ample sheds around, 
Beneath their eaves and on their rafters found 

Long: rows of swallow - nests of mud and straw. 

Close are these ranged in friendly neighborhood 
As village streets where kindred tribesmen dwell, 
Of equal fortune all — you know them well — 

Know cautious parents and adventurous brood. 

Now are you back again with twittering song, 
With flight impatient darting to and fro, 
Awaiting summer friends of long ago 

As for your coming we have waited long. 

Now may you fancy our great loneliness 
While snowy fields no swallow's singing knew; 
With what deep longing all the winter through 

We've waited for your coming, you may guess. 



32 



INNOCENTS. 

Is it a gossamer veil rich woven in threads of light, 
Filmy fabric of mist from the vapor over the stream, 

Or have the mischievous fays unraveled the moonbeams 
at night, 
Weaving the lines anew to the tissue fine of a dream ? 

Where lay the pasture and field not more than a fortnight 
ago 
Sleeping their winter sleep as sound as do swallows at 
night, 
Only the hardhack and fern broke through the blanket 
of snow, 
In the turns of the zigzag fence dry mulleins and 
thistles in sight ; 

Then from the splintered stub the caw of the crow was 
heard, 
Perchance in the lilac bush the back of a bluebird was 
seen ; 
To-day is the world alive to the boy, the bee, and the 
bird, 
Now the buds on the lilac sprouts are bursting with 
purple and green. 



38 



84 



Dame Nature is waking below, whore the roots of the 
grasps oreep, 
Whore, crushed to a spiral whorl, the leaves of the 
mullein lie, 
Keeping, In thought or in dream, the form of the rose 
while they sleep, 
Loose scattered over the soil as stars are set in the 
sky. 

Here doth she wake with a smile beneath that magical 
veil 
Which is drawn by an unseen hand to replace the van- 
ishing snow ; 
Tinged with the faintest, of blue is that delicate covering 
pale 
Over her worn face spread where the blossoming inno- 
cents grow. 



CHIPPING SPArvROW. 

Not for tho gift of song, 

Low, liquid flutings from tho thrush's throat, 
Poured steadily and long, 
Poured tenderly yet strong 

In one melodious air of varied note, 
Do we the coming greet 

Of our old neighbor in tho early spring; 
Enough that she repeat 
That one note soft and sweet 

Which all her kindred have been taught to sim 

Not for a proud array 

To match the splendor of the oriole's coat, 
Not for the colors gay, 
Bright rainbow tints that play 

Over (lie plumage of the ruby- throat, 
This April day do wo 

Mail you, old neighbor, after months of snow; 
Enough that you agree 
With us that our roof-tree 

Is just tho pleasantcst of all that grow. 



fir, 



ANDKOMEDA. 

All winter Long beneaCn M level snow, 

Orushed down ami (roses in lid watery bed 
The pliant, shrub, Andromeda, below 

lias slept as soundly as if sho were dead: 
Now that these April winds begin io Mow. 
These freshet -swollen runnels noisy flow, 

The waking plant, lifts gracefully her head, 

Ber Blender twigs outspread, 

ah ready for the soft south winds to swing 

Bang Ivory bells the drooping spray along 
To chime In with the thrushes when they sing 

Ami swell the choral chant of Nature's Bong, 
what matters It we cannot hear them ring? 
To Fancy's ear their swaying movements bring 

A rich melodious rhythm Bweet ami strong 

Spring's praises to prolong. 

Reminding of Andromeda the peer 
of Juno held, dlvinesl of the fair. 

Who challenged Norous' daughters without fear 

ihn- charms would Buffer any by compare; 
For this presumption she was fastened near 
The water's edge, left without pitying tear 

To meet a cruel fate, till rescued there 
By Perseus hold to dare. 



'MS 



WOODPECKER. 

A quick, sharp cry of anguish <>r of fright, 

A pleroing aote and clear, 
\ gray bird winging labored, drooping flight, 

Woodpecker now is here. 

We watch iiim climb the hemlock, slow and sly, 

The rough bark closely scan 
Peer round tii< v . tree-trunk furtively and shy 

As If afraid of man. 

Mow has he Learned our presence so to dread, 

To shrink from human Bight? 

is it Instinctive, In his nature bred, 
( iompanionship to slight ? 

[s It survival from that ancient <lay 

When— daughter <>f the sun — 
Fair Circe met a huntsman In the way — 

I [er Love that moment won ? 



87 



Venilia's spouse unmatched by mortal foes, 

Unhurt, by mortal arms, 

Had not protecting buckler to oppose 
Against the sorcerer's charms. 

Beneath her potent wand's transforming power 
Was hunter ohanged to prey; 

Tradition says that from that luckless hour 
Venilia pined away. 

"lis for woodpeckers well, perhaps, that they 
From human glances hide, 

For these can weave as Btrong a, spoil to-day 
As any Circe tried. 



HEAETSEASE. 

Playmate and cousin of maid Violet, 
Through meadows strolling with her, hand in 
hand, 

You look up from the grasses dewy wet 

Through tears upon your lashes shining yet 
Before the sun has dried or breezes fanned, 

Or early milkmaid with her swain has met; 

Towards the brightening east your face is set 
As Parsee worshipper in Persian land, 

Or strictest devotee of Mahomet. 

Heartsease we call you for the blessed sight 

Of sweet contentment with your humble lot, 
Enough for you to share the dew of night 
With Violet, and with her greet the light, 

Or bear the chilly winds, complaining not. 
Your patient love is seen, if read aright 
The mild expression of your features bright 
Serenely overspread with earnest thought, 
"Which coming to our hearts wins entrance quite. 



89 



WARBLER ANl> TITMOUSE. 

Zellow warbler creeping 

Softly, shyly peeping 
Through the trembling needles of t ho whispering pine, 

Thou dost, watch unsleeping, 

On my mo\ emonts keeping 
-lust, as sharp a, Lookout as I would keep on thine. 

Busy at TOUT labor. 

Galling to your neighbor, 
Little black -cap titmouse, with your cheery "twee! I" 

Life goes on how gaily, 

Sharing duties daily 
with your fellow-worker in companionship so sweet! 

You a reoenl comer 
and only tor the summer 
From the jaunty black -oap receive a weioome warm; 
You should tarry Longer, 

Till (ho cold is st ronger, 
To hear his merry piping In the bleak December storm. 

Dream not) pray, of danger 

From the ourious Btranger 
Standing by the tree-trunk ami closely watohing you 

Charming hit of yellow, 

More charming yet your fellow 
Who will stay to cheer with music the long oold win- 
ter through. 



to 



A.QUILEGIA. 

Bright bits of color red and oran^o blending - 

Sung out from clefts of ledges bleak and bare, 
On Blender branches of a plant Low bending, 
slow swinging Idly on the summer air, 
So tender and so frail, 
Bold challenging the gale; 
EUgh ledges suiting best 
Where eagles build their nest! 
Prom those wild Freedom -loving neighbors oame 
Pair A.quilegia's came. 

Your Btately kin-flower, on rich meadows growing, 

Courts not the north wind's rude and rough caress, 
Nods to fche warm, sweet breeze of summer going 
On sandalled feet that grass blades softly press. 

Light poised on easy wing 

Ks purple blossoms swing 

As doves just taking flight, 

Or hovering to alight. 
From timid doves, as From bold eagles Hum-, 
Comes name of Columbine, 



ti 



FIELD SPAKROW. 

Shy Little mother bird with beating heart, 

With anxious thought tor those she loves the best, 
This thin grass threading with deceptive art 
T<> Lead my dread, Intruding stops apart 
From her fond treasure cowering in t ho nest! 

Thou has(, no heart to Bing whilst danger's near, 

Nor chirp or ory of pain escapes thy throat. 
But lei me draw aside and i shall hear 
A Low-trilled melody how soft and clear! 

a soul's deep tenderness In every note! 

Thou keepest dose tin 4 seorel of thy breast, 

Shared With thy mate and With thy mate alone. 
The spot where lie those dear ones in the nest. 
Nor from thy movements Can the plaee he guessed - 

To but one other faithful Watcher known! 



49 



is i Nocurs. 

When knights were gathered at King Arthur's court 

Tho chivalry, the peerage of the Land, 
Keen to display their skill at knightly sport 

For prize of gilded belt, of prinoess' hand; 
At banquel met around the royal board, 

That table round by Merlin made o\' old, 
For king and knight rich, ruddy wine was poured, 

,\ purple drink, in cup of yellow gold. 

Ye golden cups on Spring's fair meadows green 
Are kingcups flt to grace a Cairy hoard, 

Held high iii dainty hand of fairy queen, 
Titania's hand, to pledge her faJi'}- Lord; 

Unsoiled ye are by any slain or blot 

Prom blood Of mortal man in battle slain. 

Your wine the morning dew thai blushes not 
At any fancy bred In Cairy brain. 

Your pliant stalks bend under passing breeze, 

Yo lout and ourtesy to the sun above, 
Be sips that, proffered beverage to tho Iocs, 

Gives hark gold bright as that which misers Love. 
We watch your glittering cups made all aglow 

With living splendor on thoso festal days, 
From that rich pearly offering we know 

What courtly homage generous Nature pays. 



48 



OEIOLE. 

When Flora's handmaids throw 
Over the orchard branches bare 
A robe of pink and white so fair 

It rivals winter's snow, 
Then cherry blossoms give to sight, 
Their purity of unstained white, 
Then in the pink upon the apple tree, 
So delicate and soft, we faintly see 
Fore-gleams of summer's glow. 

Then do we fondly dream 
Of golden sunlight on the hills, 
Of laughter rippling from tho rills, 

Of lilies on the stream; 
Then squirrels racing without care, 
Gay insects dancing in the air, 
The low sweet song of Nature softly heard, 
Crooned over lovingly by bee and bird, 
A present rapture seem. 



41 



45 



While we are lost in thought, 
Or lost in wonder and surprise 
At beauty opening to our eyes 

By Spring's fair heralds brought, 
Are lost in dreams of loveliness 
Beyond our power to express, 
Upon a sudden, startingly, behold! 
A flashing gleam of crimson and of gold 
Our wondering sight has caught. 

From lands where all the year 
The sun burns with untempered glow, 
Where day by day the flowers blow 

Nor cold of winter fear; 
From groves made fair with orange bloom 
And scented with that rich perfume, 
While barely yet in Northern pine and fir 
Do currents of the sap begin to stir, 
The oriole is here! 



PANSIES. 

For gentle thought 
Of all things innocent and good 
In garden growing or in planted field, 

In orchard or in wood; 
For gentle thought of plant and shrub that yield 
Their fragrance to the desert spot, 
The beauty of their blossoms for delight 
Of our enraptured sight, 
Their sweet and mellow - ripened fruit for food ! 

For kindly thought 
Of fellow creatures on the earth, 
Down in the grasses, up among the trees, 

Their home their place of birth; 
For kindly thought of birds that sing and bees 

Late coming home with burdens sought 
From flowers opening on shrub and tree 
While sing the birds with glee 
To waken in our hearts their joy and mirth ! 

For happy thought 
Of friends, the absent and the near, 
Who watch, as we, the blossom and the bird, 

Who listen hushed to hear 
The songs which in their childhood days they heard 
In well - remembered spot 
Where stood together with them listening long 
To chirp, or trill, or song, 
Companions in their joys and griefs most dear! 



46 



SONG SPAEEOW. 

A few notes, three or four, 
Eepeated o'er and o'er 

In low, soft, liquid strains, 
Make all thy hymn of praise, 
Sing all love's tender lays, 

Sing even love's sweet pains. 

Thy fond mate sitting near 
Is glad as I to hear 

That triumph of thine art; 
Just that same song of thine, 
Sung over line by line, 

Won her grandmother's heart. 



17 



APPLE BLOSSOMS. 

Stripped of their leaves and bare 

Have stood the apple trees all winter long 

Uncheered by sparrow's song 
Or kingbird hovering noisy in the air 

Above its wool -lined nest, 
Guarding its twittering young with jealous care 
Against marauding hawk that bold would dare 

Its orchard home molest. 

Their trunks with moss o'ergrown, 

All gnarled and seamed and knotted by the storm, 

With little grace of form, 
But lichen-robed in hues of richest tone 

They stand in sturdy row, 
Their naked boughs as sinewy arms upthrown 
Against the winter's sky, or clad alone 

In ice and soft white snow. 

This warm sweet summer's day, 

A foretaste of what waits for us in June, 

The orioles are in tune, 
The lilac boughs with purple bloom are gay; 

And in the morning light 
The apple trees that looked so old and gray, 
So bare of beauty in this beauteous May, 

Stand robed in pink and white! 



48 



id 



The vision of delight 

Sends Fancy roving where the fair earth lies 

Beneath enchanting skies, 
All fields and hedges decked with flowers bright, 

With ripening fruits as well: — 
There in a garden pleasant to the sight 
Man with his Maker walked in his own right; 

Ah, that he ever fell! 

Or Fancy, seeing these 

Sweet blossoms kindred to the blushing rose 

That by the wayside grows, 
Is hurried on to lands beyond the seas, 

To gardens in the west 
Where, watching golden apples on the trees, 
Dwell evermore the fair Hesperides 

In Islands of the Blest. 



VEERY. 

Soon as the gray of morn begins to break 

Through leaden border of dim eastern skies, 
Eathe Hours lead up the day, the dull clouds take 

The tincture of the morning's saffron dyes; 
Take forms of grace as for Aurora's sake 

Did incense from her flaming altars rise; 
Then happy birds from dreamless slumbers wake 
And in the hush of silent nature make 

A symphony of their sweet melodies. 

Soon as the hasting sun goes down at night, 

His journey of the day brought to its close, 
The brilliancy and glory of his light 

Intense upon the clouds above he throws; 
Beneath those curtain folds so soft, so bright, 

A world of tired birds sinks to repose, 
Fond hearts of young o'erflowing with delight, 
Sad hearts of old with care o'erburdened quite 

In lullabies forget their joys, their woes. 

First is the veery of that tuneful choir 

His voice in morning anthem sweet to raise, 
When, too, the evening shades are drawing nigher 

He is the last to close his simple lays ! 
No sweeter note gives out Apollo's lyre, 

None sweeter gives the shell his brother plays; 
This gift of tawny thrush transcends the fire 
Of any mortal soul that would aspire 

To sing— as now I sing— the veery's praise. 



50 



BUTTEECUPS. 

Through the meadows running 

Crowfoot tracks are seen, 
With the crow's deep cunning 

Hidden in the green ; 
Who would guess their warning, 

Who would stop to think, 
Finding them this morning 

By the runnel's brink ? 

Crowfoot tracks in legion 

Bunning all about 
Show this favored region 

Has seen a merry rout; 
Here have housewife fairies, 

With fairy swain and maid, 
Set up summer dairies 

In the plantain's shade. 



51 



Tender oowsllps over 

Breathes a fragrance swoot 
From the Boented clover 

Fairy heifers eat ; 
Milkworts shyly Living 

With primrose and with fern, 
Golden cream are giving 

For the fairies' churn. 

Come when birds are singing 

Early in the morn, 
While the dew is clinging 

To the blades of corn, 
You shall see each fairy, 

Standing tiptoe, hold 

Product of her dairy 

In buttercup of gold. 



JENNIE WREN. 

In early spring we hear you sing 

The old, the well-remembered song 
Sung o'er and o'er in years before, 

Forgotten not in winters long; 
As in and out, and all about 

The rural homes of lonely men, 
Your presence near brings added cheer 

To April's sun, sweet Jennie Wren. 

For dainty crumb you fearless come 

To open window for your food, 
To set the child with wonder wild, 

To rouse up puss with thirst for blood, 
Safe in your skill to turn at will 

As sunbeam flashed from mirror bright, 
Poor puss you tease just as you please, 

Then have you disappeared from sight. 

All summer long your cheery song 

Was heard from yard and garden nigh. 
From early light till when at night 

The veery sung her lullaby; 
That song denied, at Christmas-tide 

Our thoughts go back to summer when 
With hum of bees round cherry trees 

Was lieard sweet voice of Jennie Wren. 



.53 



LADY'S SLIPPER. 

Whose dainty foot 
Once wore in maiden pride 
This unlaced slipper wrought in pink and white 
Left here in sudden flight 

At this pine's root 
Upon the streamlet's side ? 
Or was it cast away 
By dryad, nymph, or fay, 
When she was overcome and dazed by panic fright ? 

It swings and nods 
Upon that slender stalk 
As if its owner had but just now fled; 
Could she have heard us tread 
On spongy sods, 
Or overheard our talk 
As we came down the brook 
Minding our line and hook, 
Careful that timid trout should not be seized with dread ? 

Or did she spy 
The wolf's-foot painted green 
In trailing moss upon the shaded ground, 
Soft creeping all around 

Cautious and shy 
As prowling wolf is seen ? 
Did she consult her fear, 
Deeming the danger near, 
And leave her loosened slipper at the first light bound ? 



i>i 



NUTHATCH. 

Up and down the maples rough and shaggy - coated, 

Busy searching through the lichens all the day, 
Shyly creeps the tiny nuthatch snowy - throated, 

Sharply eyeing every crevice for its prey; 
In and out along the boughs with gray moss covered, 

Gnarled and knotted in their struggles with the 
storm, 
Through the mass of tender leafage is discovered 

Here and there about its work that slender form. 

Pleasant 'tis for us to watch our cheerful neighbor 

Happy in the work of caring for its brood, 
Finding only joy and comfort in its labor, 

"Winning for its little ones their daily food; 
Pleasant 'tis to think that when the snow is flying, 

When the leaves are gone and gone the summer bird, 
Up among the frozen branches creaking, crying, 

This same note of sweet contentment will be heard. 



55 



BAEBEEKY. 

On rocky hillside pastures growing wild 
By sufferance of man, not with his care, 

Among the broken ledges, boulders piled 
In menacing disorder here and there, 
Has fled the barberry bush as to its lair 

Flees hunted creature of the wilderness 
Before the fierce pursuer with his hound, 

Its faint heart beating wildly in distress 
To hear the barking dogs, the bugle's sound. 

Here has the barberry a refuge found, 

A desert stronghold for its safety made, 
Has taken weapons sharp wherewith to wound 

Whoever may its chosen spot invade, 

Each stem and leaf thick set with point and blade 
For war equipped it hangs in early spring 

Defiant flag of gold o'er castle wall, 
In softer mood entices with a string 

Of beaded coral later in the fall. 



50 



ON BOBOLINK GKOUND. 

Here will the meadow lark be found 
Near neighbor to the bobolink, 

Joint owners they of low wet ground 
That lies along the river's brink, 

Where thick the alder bushes grow, 

Where willows swing their branches low, 
Of running stream to drink. 

Here violets in the mowing field 
Wake early from their winter's nest, 

Here tufted grasses spring to shield 
Weak fledglings chirping in the nest; 

Gay grow the fields with orchids rare, 

With crane's-bill and with crowfoot fair; 
Here sing the birds their best. 

Could man have brought from regions fair 
Whence angels led him to his birth, 

Gifts that with wild notes could compare, 
With song of birds of equal worth ; 

A gift like theirs the sense to please, 

To charm the soul, the heart to ease, 
Then might he own the earth. 



57 



MEADOW CRANE'S-BILL. 

Through meadows green 
The tiny streamlet, wandering idly, goes 
With many a winding turn 
Between its banks of fern, 
Or clumps of hardhack growth and wilding rose 
In blossom seen. 

Now blowing sweet 
From over strawberry beds, through clustered grove 
Of flowering basswood trees, 
Loved haunt of humming bees. 
As idle as the brook the breezes rove 
On sandalled feet. 

Lithe grasses low 

Bend down in reverence as the breezes pass: 

The fern frond easy swings 

As swallow on his wings 

Turns in his rapid flight and skims the grass 

As shadows go. 



58 



59 



In noble pride 
The orchis holds his purple head high up 
Above the violets shy 
That in the grasses lie, 
Outrivalling the golden buttercup 
Close by his side. 

These nodding greet 
The gentle crane's-bill living o'er the way; 
Weil -bred the comely race 
That with bewitching grace 
The compliments of buttercups repay 
"With courtesy sweet. 



VIKEO. 

What soft notes ringing clear, 
What sweet strain do we hear 

Sung to melodious tune 
From out the elm tops high, 
Outlined against the sky 

Of this bright day in June ? 

Fierce beats the noontide sun, 
But rippling waters run, 

Song led, from shaded pool; 
Blithe naiads trip along 
To the measure of that song 

Heard from the shadows cool ; 

Or is it that the bird 
A naiad's step has heard, 

Has caught its rhythmic beat ? 
Is that the secret known 
To one blest bird alone 

To make its song so sweet? 



PKIMEOSE. 

The sun is down, — his latest lingering beams 

Swept from far western hills their crown of gold, 
They took the shimmering light from off the streams : 
The burnished gold that from the kingcup gleams 
Green sepals close enfold. 

The moon is up,— through limbs of ash trees dead 

She peers across the dusky wooded land, 
On clover bloom the winds more lightly tread, 
The drowsy poppy nods and droops her head, 
Her flame more lightly fanned. 

The laden bee, surprised while homeward bound, 

Belated by his greed, holds on his way; 
His droning hum low blends with pensive sound 
Of home- fast cricket chirping on the ground 
To while the hours away. 

Soft sleeps the daisy by the sparrow's nest, 

The firefly flickers over meadows damp, 
Low chirping thrushes, 'neath their mother's breast, 
With her sweet lullaby are hushed to rest : — 
Pale primrose lights her lamp. 

Bright yellow buttercup at summer's noon 

Eeturns the sun more than he gives of gold, 
So does the primrose, with her lavish boon, 
Burn softer flame than does the tender moon, — 
♦Shines with a ray less cold. 



61 



VESPEKS AND MATINS. 

Soft and slow, 
Faint and low, 
Sings the hermit thrush her evening lullaby; 
On a birch twig swinging, 
To her loved ones singing, 
Swinging, 
Singing, 
Softer yet and slower, 
Fainter yet and lower, 
King the bell -like notes till all the echoes die, 
Till the hush of slumbers 
Drowns the drowsy numbers, 
Till the sleep of sacred silence seals the weary 
watcher's eye. 

Soon as light 
Follows night, 
Coursing all the lands and waters o'er, 

"With the day's first breaking, 
From their slumbers waking, — 
Cheep, cheep; 
Peep, peep,— 
In a burst of gladness, 
Of ecstatic madness, 
All the birds together their songs of greeting pour, 
Pour their souls in singing- 
Till the woods are ringing 
Just as if on eastern borders day had never dawned 
before. 



SUN DEW. 

The soil beneath our feet, 
Along the brook -side in the mowing field, 
Is soft and springy, — downy mosses yield 
To lightest pressure ; where our feet have set 
A deep mould in low bended grasses wet, 

Eise waters cool and sweet. 

From all the leaves around, 
From stalk and stem, from blade and flower cup 
The sun has drunk the dew of morning up ; 
The purple orchis proudly lifts its head, 
Blue violets lie sleepy in their bed, 

In dreamy slumber drowned. 

Here sun dew in the moss 
Stretches its leaf -stalks as extended arms, 
Holds to the heavens its broad, round, upturned palms 
Brimmed with the crystal drops its leaves distill, 
Begs the hot noontide sunbeam drink its fill, 

Nor suffers any loss. 



WHITE -THKOATED SPARROW. 

How sweet that singing heard 
From thicket fringing round the shadowy wood 
Close bordering the field of ripening corn ! 

'Tis the white - throated bird, 
The wren -like sparrow, singing plaintive song, 
Low calling lovingly, in tender mood, 

His mate away so long. 
How have I listened to that longing cry ! 
"Madam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, why 

Tarry you all the morn ?" 

The summer noon is still, 
Save cricket's chirping in the yellowing grain 
Blends with the hum of honey -gathering bees, 

In concert faint but shrill. 
The butterfly goes past on noiseless wing: 
And now I hear in melody again 

The lonely sparrow sing, 
Low chanting over that same song alway, 
"Madam Peabody, Peabody, Peabody, pray, 

Hurry back home, do, please." 



61 



LAUEEL. 

Under the -winter's snow 

All flashing, sparkling white, 
With ice thick crusted o'er, 
With rime and frost-work hoar 
And crystals shining bright, 
Long leaves of laurel show 

As soft, as tender, green 
As when in summer seen 
Beneath the hot sun all aglow 

On pastured slope, on mountain height, 
Gray granite ledges hung before 
To curtain these with velvet sheen. 

Now with a softer white 
Than any Winter knows, 
Just tinted with the flush 
Of a half - conscious blush 
As borrowed from the rose, 
Comes laurel to our sight. 

Pranked out in such array 
It seems the fair one may 
Have met elves on midsummer's night; 
This work of Nature's weaving throws 
Such witchery on rock and bush 
We know not what to think or say. 



NIGHT HAWK. 

Silent of voice and wing, 

Low brooding all the day 

On bare rock lichened gray, 
You hear the thickets ring 
With songs the thrushes sing, 

Unheeding all the wood's glad life at play. 

As motionless as stone, 

All mottled brown and white 

Your form deceives the sight ; 
It seems that life has flown, 
That flesh and blood have grown 

Into the semblance of gray granite quite ; 

Until the step is nigh 
Of one whose eager quest 
For Nature's thought is pressed, 

Then with a whimpering cry, 

As broken-winged, you fly 
Or flutter helpless from your guarded nest. 



66 



Not yet does Nature quite 

Her secret drawer unlock; 

Still do the round eggs mock 
The intruder's keenest sight, 
For, speckled brown and white, 

These match the gray tone of the naked rock. 

Without a stick to hedge 

The bare home spot around, 

The lonely nest is found 
Upon the hard, sharp edge 
Of a sun -beaten ledge 

That crops out in the open pasture ground. 



MOUSE-EAR CHICKWEED. 

Dearest but humblest born 

Of Nature's blameless brood, 

Creeping among the grass, among the corn, 

Keeping well out of sight, 

Beneath the dock and plantain hidden quite, 

Sleeping in bivouac through the summer's night 

Around the glow-worm's light, 

Poor gipsy vagabond of road and lane, 

Thou hast of men their coldness and disdain, 

Contempt and bitter scorn : 

Yet mother Nature, good 

To all her children with unstinted love, 

Holds thy form closely pressed 

To her warm loving breast, 

And smiles in sunshine on thy frequent bloom. 

Brighter the world to thee 

Than to the laurel tree 

Brought from the dank depths of the forest gloom, 

Only a prize to be 

To grace a victory, 

Or, mimicking bowed Sorrow, lean above 

Eed-handed conqueror sleeping in his tomb. 



WHIPPOORWILL. 

One by one the voices of the daytime 

Cease their prattle at the evening hour, 
Weary with the pleasures of their playtime 

Little birds are resting in their bower ; 
One by one their hymns of praise are chanted, 

Brought to a lapsing close in evensong, 
In the silent night the wood is haunted 
By a mournful cry repeated long. 
Deeper grow the shadows 
On the fields and meadows; 
Sinking low or rising high, 
Shining far or flashing nigh, 
Lights her lamp the firefly. 
Round the silent mill, 
In the evening still, 
Up the rill, down the rill, 
Wanders weary Echo crying still 
"Whip -poor -Will! Whip - poor -Will!" 



70 



Now the long- bright summer's day is ended, 

Faded wholly from the earth and sky, 
Olover field and wooded slope are blended 

In one mass of purple to the eye: 
All alone, more lonely for that crying, 

From the distant wood or orchard near, 
Echo, busy to that voice replying, 
Sad the cry repeats in accents clear. 
Nearer sounds the flowing 
Of the mill-stream going 
Down its bed with broken fall, 
Tumbling over rocks and all; 
With its roar is heard the call 
Mingling with the trill 
Of the tree -toad shrill. 
Up the hill, down the hill 
Wanders weary Echo crying still, 
" Whip - poor - Will ! " Whip - poor - Will 1 " 



WATER LILIES. 

Beneath the shadows cold 

Of broken ledges old, 

High towering, sheer and bold, 
Against the smiling field of summer's blue, 
Where, every morning, climbs the sun anew 
The mystic golden staircase leading through 

Yast upward curling fold 

Of gray mist softly rolled 
From off the water's face, -the still lake lies, 
Calm, clear and blue as noontide's cloudless skies. 

All watching for the light, 

Still in the shade of night 

The royal lilies white 
Their close shut petals slowly now unfold, 
Displaying to the day the wealth they hold, 
A golden altar with its flame of gold, 

All glowing warm and bright 

To fascinate the sight, 
And breathing out a fragrance as divine 
As is frankincense on Apollo's shrine. 



71 



MEADOW LARK. 

rhe breeze that faintest fragrance brings 

From hardhack, fern, and thistle, 
Bears song of meadow lark that sings 

"With low and plaintive whistle; 
Above the dusty stubble ground, 

The thicket's leafy cover, 
Wide pasture -waste, sun -burnt and browned. 

Shy larks, shrill piping, hover. 

While yet the snow lies on the hill 

We greet this early comer, 
We neighbor with it gladly till 

We've said "Good-bye!" to summer. 
How many a morning of July, 

When in the meadow mowing, 
I've listened to that timid cry 

Heard with the cock's bold crowing! 



72 



mm. 

Above the plashy pool, 
With pond -weed growing in close neighborhood 
And standing knee -deep in the stagnant flood 

Beneath the sun's hot rays 

At noon of summer days, 
Fair, languid Iris droops her head, and dreams 
Of harebells overhanging laughing streams 

Up on the mountains cool. 

The meadow all around 
Is soft with moss and grasses growing green, 
Here lilies, jonquils, crocuses are seen, 

All flowers growing best 

"Where silent waters rest ; 
Foundation these from which the arches rise 
To span with splendid hues the weeping skies; - 

Here pot of gold is found! 

By that fair, shining way, 
Came Iris once down from Olympus high, 
She marked with light her course across the sky, 

And still it shows as plain, 

Fresh washed with falling rain, 
As if the maid of Juno took her flight 
Back from the earth to that celestial height 

Where it is noon for aye. 



73 



BAKN SWALLOWS. 

I have in mind a farmstead ' mong the hills, 
A broken region rich in ponds and rills, 
With mountain ranges on the north and west, 
Upon the south, a lonely lake at rest; 
The farm itself a ridge of easy slope, 

With dark old forest growth on either side, 
Its fields and pastures offering generous scope 

For oxen ploughing, cattle ranging wide: 
Those fields and pastures fenced with walls of stone, 
Gray boulders with gray lichens overgrown; 
The rising summit of the long ridge crowned 
With low farm - buildings weather-worn and browned, 
With orchard trees close clustering around. 

I have in mind a barn extending wide, 
With low -roofed sheds attached on either side, 
Their eaves, projecting, offered tempting seat 
For nests of swallows, ranged as on a street; 
Adobe -built, these seemed to wondering eyes 

That watched for years that street's increasing 
length, 
That saw its walls by swallow labor rise, 

As if 'twere built of Cyclopean strength, 
But underneath those ample sheds, storm-proof, 
Within the barn, beneath its spacious roof, 
Wherever rib or rafter furnished rest, 
Was built of mud and straw a swallow's nest 
For brood in Continental colors dressed. 



7i 



75 



Swift over fields of clover, skimming low, 
The eager swallows hurry to and fro; 
"With easy grace they turn, they sink, they rise, 
To catch the white -winged miller as it flies. 
A sweetly simple melody they sing, 

"With friendly note the barefoot boy they greet, 
While plying brisk their foray on the wing, 

They circle round the wondering urchin's feet; 
But when the parent birds come home with food, 
The barn is bedlam with the noisy brood. 
Each year such care the swallow's time employs 
To still, to hush the summer's twittering noise; — 
Ghosts of their youth as men are ghosts of boys. 



OKCHIS. 

Deep In moist meadows with fair iris growing, 
Whore blossomed buttercups in early May, 

Its spike of purple flowers proudly showing, 
The orchis holds its head high up to-day. 

It stands breast-high among the bending grasses 
That with the summer breezes rise and sink, 

Loads with its fragrance every breath that passes, 
Though burdened this with song of bobolink. 

At dawn it sends this winsome message over 
To call afield the bees and butterflies, 

Above the billowy seas of purple clover 
This eager horde of honey - seekers hies. 

They find the orchis, in its stately beauty, 
As picket stationed here some charge to keep, 

Alert, devoted to its sacred duty, 
To guard the spot where tender fledglings sleep. 

Above that helmet plumed, and worn so proudly, 
On fluttering wing hangs anxious bobolink; 

lie greets his waiting home by singing loudly, 
With cadence of his song at last to sink. 



7G 



CEDAR BIRD. 

Trig, natty little fop, 

The prince of feathered beaux, 
At home in cedar's top 

Or in the orchard close; 
With equal neatness dressed 
In ashy -olive vest, 
Whether in sunshine bright or dismal storm 
We note your simple taste, your comely form. 

With well - becoming grace 

You wear your jaunty crest, 
With pertness in your face 
Come an unbidden guest; 
Your friends you bring to eat 
Our cherries ripe and sweet 
As if it were for you and yours alone 
That in our gardens cherries red are grown. 

With joy you hail the sight 

Of cherries growing red, 
You watch with keen delight 
The crimson blushes spread, 
While not a blush we trace 
On your provoking face 
All radiant with eagerness and haste 
The quality of ox-heart fruit to taste. 



77 



WOOD-SOKKEL. 

Upon the sloping- bank of woodland stream, 

Fair as a fairy's dream, 

Wakes nymph Wood - Sorrel, opening wide her ey 

To Spring's low -arching skies; 

Its leaves, — as many as the Graces — seen 

At evening golden -green, 

Will in the morning light display with pride 

Their purple under side, 

Worn as the royal purple of the East 

To grace a royal feast, 

Embroidered either side in lines as fair 

As locks of maiden's hair. 

Heart-shaped each tiny leaf that we may know 

The tender thought below, 

That springs to meet us in the blossoms sweet 

Low bowing at our feet; 

On slender stems of pink and green they swing 

As birds upon the wing, 

Their white - empurpled petals worn as gay 

As crown by Queen of May, 

In numbers gathering to this quiet nook 

Beside the plashy brook, 

They deck this mossy bank beneath the firs 

For Flora's worshippers. 



78 



SWAMP SPARROW. 

Along the sloping edge 

Of clover fields red - blossoming in June, 
Where butterflies and bees together come 

To fill the air with beauty and with sound, 

Till all the place around 
Is hushed to quiet by a murmurous hum, 
There grow the hazels thickest in the hedge 
There dogwood blossomed in the early Spring; 

The briers keep the barefoot boy away 
Though in the swamp he hears a shy bird sing 

A wonderful sweet tune, 
Though to his ears the notes melodious ring 

As if 'twere Orpheus with his strings at play. 

A breath of incense sweet 

Is breathed from twin -flowers growing in the moss 
That trails along the hemlock half - decayed, 

High up in tops of whispering pines and firs 

The soft breeze lightly stirs 
Their balsam boughs till melody is made, 
Then does the low trill of the sparrow greet 
The listening ear of deep - enchanted boy 

Who, wondering, holds his breath and listens long, 
Thrilled, as the trees are thrilled, with rapturous joy, 

Impatient of the loss 
Of single note sung by that minstrel coy; — 

Himself lost in the mystery of song. 



79 



SWEET CLOVER. 

As 'wild thyme, on the slopes of Hybla growing, 

"Was fed upon by honey -loving bees, 
Soft airs Sicilian from the mountain blowing 

Sweet perfume wafted far out on the seas; 
So in our lanes, through fields and meadows going, 

Where clasp the pleading buttercups our knees, 
White clover springs from Nature's kindly sowing, 

Eich fragrance breathing on the passing breeze. 

New England's snow - clad hills this winter's morning 

With slopes of Sicily but ill compare, 
Our fields wear only white for their adorning 

While thyme and cytisus are growing there; 
Let but the breath of June steal softly over 

Our summer landscape clothed in beauty rare, 
Then will the perfume of sweet-scented clover 

Tempt honey - hoarding misers to despair. 



SO 



BLUE HEKON. 

Low down the western sky 
Eests setting sun on mountain's burning ridge 
As if his tired steeds 

Were here turned loose to graze rich lotus 
meads, 
In evening peace, that lie 
Beyond the utmost reach of mortal eye; 
His slant rays span with golden bridge 
The broad low valley with its darkening stream, 
Whose silent reaches under giant pines 
In shadow slumber while the low sun shines 
Upon those lofty tops with good -night beam. 

Slow coming into view 

From out the fleecy clouds of vapor rolled 
From sea on eastern side, 
A small dark speck is suddenly descried 
Against the deepening blue : 
It grows upon the vision as they grew, 

Those coming ships we watched of old. 
Against the arrowy beams flashed from the west 

The heron wings her way with daily food, 

Filched from the sea, to feed her hungry brood 
Left, ' mong the pine tops, in a lonely nest. 



81 



PLANTA GENISTA. 

An open space 

Of almost naked rock, 

Of ledges rounded into billowy forms 

Like those that heave upon the Atlantic's breast, 

That, shoreward driven by storms, 

Eoll in on Swampscot Beach with swelling crest, 

Till, checked their race, 

They break with thundering shock ; 

So lie Lynn Commons, bleak and bare, 

With only here and there 

In some deep - sheltered nook 

Grown round by alders low, 

By swamp -pink blossoming like snow, 

A little crystal pool 

Of waters fresh and cool, 

Fed by the tribute of a slender brook, 

To whose green side 

Sweet clover blossoms tempt the wandering bees, 

Where, in lithe elms and spreading willow trees, 

Do wren and thrush all summer long abide. 



82 



ti3 



These sloping sides 

Of glacier - polished ledge, 

As if, in some far -distant age unknown, 

These had been smoothed as rocks upon the shore 

Of an ice -burdened zone, 

Their rounded surface barely covered o'er 

With strip of soil that hides 

Scant border round their edge, — 

A soil as thin and poor 

As that on English moor 

Washed down by winter rains, 

Too scanty soil to bear 

A forest growth, but everywhere 

Low savin bushes keep 

Firm hold in crevice deep 

Beside the purple porphyritic veins. 

Here fairies tread, 

Hither among the moss the cinque -foil creeps, 

With jealous lichens gray it firmly keeps 

A miser's clutch upon its rocky bed. 



84 



Through misty haze 

We look upon this rugged scene, — 

This bit of Old World landscape in the New — 

At early morning in the month of June; 

The sun drinks up the dew, 

But notes are lacking from the siren tune 

Heard on such days 

In fields and woodlands green ; 

We wonder at the change, 

The scene presents a strange, 

But rapturous, aspect to our sight! 

What harmony doth show 

Of light above, of gold below, 

As if had Nature tried 

The naked rock to hide 

With filmy folds of saffron - colored light ! 

She weaves us here 

With most consummate skill a splendid shroud, 

Warm fabric of the sunbeam and the cloud, 

Veiling her features hard with smile and tear. 



SB 



So gray and cold 

"Were ledges bare and steep 

Before the wild flowers wakened to the light, 

Roused by the corning of the year's bright day 

After its winter night! 

Dreamed these of tones in color, forms bedight 

With burnished gold, 

In their unbroken sleep ? 

Of coquetry of light and shade, 

Arch nod to passing maid, 

Of banners borne afield 

Above high -waving crest, 

Above long ranks of gallant men abreast ? 

Or was it with surprise 

This splendor met their eyes, 

Flashed from the ledge as from a golden shield ? 

O banneret 

Unfurled of richest golden - petalled bloom, 

Of yellow - flowered, heath - enamored broom 

Worn in the cap of the Plantagenet! 



Our souls with awe 

Are bowed before the sight 

Of so much beauty on the landscape thrown, 

Such wealth of color used with lavish hand 

On cold, gray granite stone, 

Until this lone spot rivals any land 

Eyes ever saw 

Beneath the heaven's broad light, 

Until we come to realize 

The rapture and surprise 

With which Linnasus found 

Himself, that day in June 

When thrush and linnet were in tune, 

Delighted with the sight 

Of golden broom flowers bright 

Clothing a barren waste of English ground. 

Low kneeling there 

Upon that stretch of richly colored sod 

He raised his voice in thankfulness to God 

For having made a world so bright and fair. 



87 



As now we gaze 

On yellow - tufted broom, 

We see this stranger plant, of foreign stock, 

Clinging to this one lone and rugged spot, 

This naked barren rock, 

Now are we carried back in pondering thought 

To earlier clays 

When this bright bit of bloom 

Our fathers and our mothers bore 

From England's pleasant shore 

To plant in their new home, 

That, as it spread and grew, 

Its sight might link the Old World to the New; 

That it might blossom here 

At. noontide of the year 

As it had bloomed on Surrey's chalky loam. 

Its beauty told, 

When petals opened with their burning glow 

And lighted up this waste with brilliant show, 

Affection's bonds were bright as chains of gold. 



We look away, 

Far off upon the sea, 

Beyond the outline of this broken shore; 

So does our eager fancy strive to press 

From when our sires came o'er 

From mother England to this wilderness. 

In that far day 

On Gallic field we see 

Proud Henry wearing badge of broom, 

Vailed at k Becket's tomb, 

But shining in the fray. 

And him we see, whose name 

Brought fear to man and brute where'er he came, 

The lion - hearted one, 

Leading Crusaders on 

To victory beneath this yellow spray. 

Our fancies go 

On wayward wanderings, and back they bring 

Some thought of Geoffrey, Anjou's noble king, 

Of those who sleep with him at Fontevrault. 



WABBLING GKEENLET. 

Still fall the rain - drops through the birch leaves 
tender, 

With motion tremulous,, with rippling sound, 
They steal along the smooth twigs lithe and slender, 

To fall on withered leaves that strew the ground ; 
Through rifts in ragged storm-clouds rent and 
broken, 

Pour down the golden sunbeams bright and warm, 
They thread the lines of rain and set the token 

Of ancient covenant on passing storm. 
Down through the birch leaves, with the rain -drops 
falling, 

Come liquid strains of simplest melody, 
Sweet, cheerful note of happy greenlet calling 

To kindred songster in the neighbor tree; 
The frowning cloud with glorious splendor lighted 

In speechless rapture holds entranced gaze, — 
Let greenlet's tones, with sound of leaves united, 

Now weave for us a fitting hymn of praise ! 



89 



SWAMP PINK. 

The maiden's happiness, 
Which she for worlds on worlds would not confess 

The world can rightly guess 
From merry song that sings itself to-day; 

Let her contrive all art 
Her every look and movement will betray 

The secret of her heart. 

The flower, opening pale 
On wilding shrub, its sweetness must exhale 

To breath of passing gale; 
Though envious brambles clamber to conceal 

The modest blushing face, 
Her breath of sweetest fragL-ance will reveal 

The Swamp Pink's lowly place. 



SWALLOWS FLIGHT. 

Glad greeting give we in the spring 
When, in surprise, we hear you sing 
Or see the glancing of a wing 

Eound low eaves overjutting; 
'Neath shingle edge and water spout 
Ye gather, flitting in and out 
Your clay-built homes thick set about, 

On beam and plate abutting. 

In empty loft of barn and shed, 
Above the unused cart and sled, 
In summers past your young were bred 

With not one thought of danger. 
Content with your domestic joys, 
The tease of puss, delight of boys, 
Ye filled the spacious barn with noise 

That drowned the low from manger. 

O swallow, at the early light 

The mower marked thy rapid fight, 

That dipping of the wings so slight 

With which thou crossed the ocean. 
How well do I remember thee 
Thus darting by in front of me, 
And in that rhythmic flight I see 

The poetry of motion. 



91 



PITCHER -PLANT. 

Once was a modern fancy tempted fair 

By ancient Grecian urn of beauty rare, 

Whose well proportioned form had potter graced 

With glad procession, round the border traced; 

The lovely maiden's beauty ne'er should fade, 

The eager lover never win the maid; 

So had the artist to his fancy wrought, 

So shaped to this far age his happiest thought! 

Henceforth that urn its round of years repeats 

Accompanied by gracious thought of Keats. 

To-day these pitchers, wrought to Nature's mind 

In lonely wood -surrounded spot I find, 

Their forms as perfect and unchanged they hold 

As potter's work preserved from days of old; 

So curls the lip about the outer rim, 

So stands the water even with the brim, 

So are they painted by the summer sun, 

In brown and purple tints the colors run, 

Fronds blend with vines except where mosses 

hide 
A patch of green upon the under side. 



PHOEBE. 

Who hears that note of call 
For Phoebe in the spring ? 

From garden fence, or wall, 

From sloping well - sweep tall 
The cries repeated ring; — 
Soon will the summons bring 

The bird beloved of all. 

Still, "Phoebe!" do we hear, 
Called from the orchard tree 

In accents loud and clear; 

When will the bird appear ? 
Calling impatiently 
When shall the fond mate see 

The housewife, Phoebe, here ? 

Here is the last year's nest 

'Twas Phoebe's happy home, 

Of workmanship the best, 

With silken fibers dressed, 
Fair as a palace dome: 
Again shall Phoebe come 

Again will it be blest. 

Ah, Phoebe, Phoebe, you 
Are really staying late ! 

Nay, this will never do, 

To slight a love so true ! 
Already is your mate 
Made quite disconsolate, 

And we are waiting, too. 



93 



CLEMATIS. 

Climbing over walls and hedges, 
Clambering over rocks and ledges, 
Runs at large the wilding clematis as a truant 
child at play; 
Hand in hand with clinging bramble, 
Boon companions both, these ramble 
Over ditches by the roadside, all along the dusty 
way. 

Through the fields and through the meadows, 
In the sun and in the shadows, 
On dry bank and springy brookside equally this 
wilding grows; 
Through the fences and through bushes 
"Where the sparrows and shy thrushes 
Hide from sight their precious nestlings, there this 
fearless runner goes. 



91 



95 



Over sagging" rails decaying, 
Up the stakes but feebly staying, 
Where the playful squirrels scamper, run and chat- 
ter in their play ; 
Filling all the gaps and breaches 
With its long and swaying reaches, 
Grows the vigorous young clematis concealing old 
decay. 

In an earlier age, when Beauty 
Owed to Use not any duty, 
When our fathers looked upon the world with the 
feelings of a boy; 
Then they saw why roads were haunted 
By this graceful runner planted 
By the bounteous hand of Nature, and they called 
it Traveler's Joy. 



THRUSH'S LULLABY. 

When the days in summer die, 
When the light fades from the sky, 
Then the thrush 
In the bush 
Sings her evening lullaby; 
Then the stars that are so high, 
Winking roguishly and sly 

To the stars that dance and shiver 
On the ripples of the river 
As the leaves of poplars quiver 
When the summer breeze goes by, 
Wink and nod to primrose shy 
As she opens wide her eye, 
Waking with the firefly 

From her day - dreams fair and bright 
To the glories of the night, 
Just when lilies on the stream 
Close their drowsy eyes to dream 
Of the glories of the day. 
How with steady gaze do they 
Every one 
Watch the sun 
From the dawn till evening gray, 
Till his splendors die away! 
When the darkness brooding nigh 
Silences each twittering cry 
To a hush, 
Then the thrush 
In the bush 
Leads to a lapsing close her low -trilled lullaby. 



96 



TWIN - FLOWER. 

O strangely rare! 
The odor faint brought on the passing breeze, 
The balsam breath blown from the tall fir trees 

That silent rise and fair, 

In the hot summer air! 

And, mingling sweet, 
A rich perfume, more delicate by far 
Than spicy gales from tropic islands are, 

Rises about our feet, 

For offered incense meet. 

Beneath the screen 
Of bearded hemlock boughs and royal pines, 
The twin -flower traces with its slender vines 

A pattern dimly seen 

On carpet soft and green. 

The springy moss 
Retains slight impress of the trampling foot, 
But thick on fallen trunk and buttress root 

Slowly it creeps across 

Decay, and hides all loss. 

But here and there 
A delicate pale flower turns its head 
To sweetheart's kiss; — more softly now we tread 

By fragrance made aware 

Of the fond loving pair. 



97 



YELLOW BIRD. 

Erect, alone, 
AJert as picket on the outer line, 
Amid a waste of sands, 
Or posted by a stone 
With lichens overgrown 
On hill -side sheepwalk under August's shine, 
The stately mullein stands, 
Craving no part in lands 
To drought unknown. 
About its feet are seen 
Soft robes of velvet green 
In which its early youth was richly dressed, 

Now upward from the waist 
On lines that run oblique across its breast, 
At intervals are decorations placed, 
Mild stars of softest gold, 
Such gold as waking primroses unfold, 
To Venus shining bright, and low down in the west. 



99 



"Well poised is worn 
A burnished helmet of that self - same gold 
With which its sides are graced; 
As martial, is it sworn, 
As Eoman eagle borne 
By legionary troops through Gaul of old, 
Or royal standard placed 
On Syria's desert waste, 

XJnawed, untorn; 
Till easy as a thought 
By sudden fancy caught 
This Phrygian symbol takes its flight so free, 
Now falling and anon 
Rising with gentle grace as billows on the sea, 
To yonder ripening thistle is it gone, 
And as it floats along 
It times the rhythmic movements with its 
song; 
Exultant mounts each crest, with soft che-wee, che- 
wee! 



YAREOW. 

In close companionship with man 

Yet having in his thought no share, 
A poor neglected weed, 
Outcast, existing under ban, 

Unheeded vagrant everywhere 
That human footsteps lead, 
By dusty road, green lane and footpath narrow, 
Grows with its thousand feathery leaves the yarrow. 

In God's great, universal plan, 
Of our poor notice, of our care 
The milfoil hath what need ? 
Those leaves, so softly bending, can 
Show service in the world as fan- 
As is man's noblest deed; — 
In Spring-time down the lane the social sparrow 
Builds trustingly her nest 'neath sheltering yarrow. 



100 



WOOD THEUSH. 

The silent "world lies all asleep 

Beneath the silent moon, 
Wood thrushes sunk in slumber deep 

Will wake to singing soon; 
In crowfoot cups bright dewdrops lie 
As glistening tears in pitying eye, 
The ardent sun will kiss them dry 

Before the burning noon. 

Now one by one the birds awake, 

At once begin to sing, 
And now the day begins to break 

As crowfoot blooms in Spring ; 
Now field and wood with song are gay, 
With songs to welcome in the day, 
Now thrush low trills his simple lay, 

A wonderful sweet thing. 



lui 



102 



Now weary world would go to sleep, 

The sun has gone to bed, 
Now shadows o'er the meadows creep, 

The crowfoot hangs her head; 
Now buttercups and lilies fold 
Against the moonbeams pale and cold 
Those noonday hearts of burning gold, 

Their good - night wishes said. 

Now one by one the stars above 
Are lighted clear and bright, 
And Primrose burns her flame of love 

To shed a softer light; 
Now sparrow's song forgets to ring, 
Her head is tucked beneath her wing, 
Now only thrush is left to sing 

The weary world's " Good - night." 



ARETHUSAS. 

Within the crystal of the streamlet flowing 

Through hot June meadows, answers flower to 

flower, 
Its low banks crowd they bringing Beauty's 
dower 
As fond Narcissus to the fountain going. 

There much elated, green and crimson showing, 
They drink dissolved pearls at morning hour 
In cups of ruby, — fatal noontide power 

Of rising sun their simple faith not knowing. 

Unhappy flowers, the first day of whose living 
Was last as well by Nature's plan intended ! 
By seeking beauty your frail life was ended, 

That fatal beauty, too, of your own giving ! 

Symbol of fate, — truth taught in fields and 
meadows, 

Whose life is not defrauded by life's shadows ! 



103 



SAND -PIPER. 

In eastern light the ebbing tide 

Runs down the rippled shelving sand, 
It leaves the beach uncovered wide, 

A smooth gray border to the land ; 
The low tones heightened by the tint 

Of rose reflected from the skies, 
That silvered surface shows the print 

Of bird-tracks plain to peering eyes. 

Thus stretching off in morning gray 

The long, pale line of watery beach 
In curves of beauty winds away, 

Far as the challenged sight can reach ; 
But, lo ! a presence comes between 

The rippling water's edge and me, 
A bird's slight figure dimly seen 

En silhouette against the sea. 

Not yet begins the meadow bird 

Its song of waking soft and clear; 
Not yet is flute -like trilling heard 

From orchard tree, from thicket near; 
But simple as the beauty found 

Between the ocean and the land, 
At silent dawn is heard the sound 

Of plaintive piping from the sand. 



104 



FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Forget-me-not, with eyes as blue 

As summer skies without a blot, 
All wet with tears of morning dew, 
Low -blending grasses looking through 

With wistful pleadings ne'er forgot; — 
Dear flower, from year to year most true 

To look up from the self -same spot, 
So does your lover watch for you, 

Forget-me-not! 

Forget-me-not! forefend the thought 
That one who has of friends so few 

Should count your tender pleading nought! 

Ah, no ! lamenting lonely lot 
Of your abundandt grace I sue, 

" Forget - me - not I" 



105 



HUMMING BIRD. 

A flash 
As of a meteor bursting on the sight, 
A sudden gleam of many -colored light 

Shot from the burning heart of opal stone; 
A dash 
As of a falcon bold or swooping kite 
Surprising quarry keen from its far height, 
And all the vision instantly is gone! 

A sound 
Like that from quivering wings of honey bees 
About the bursting bloom of orchard trees 
An instant, now and then, is plainly heard; 
A round 
Of momentary visits such as these 
Reveals as indistinctly as one sees 

Bewildering flight of sun -bred Humming Bird 



106 



MITCHELLA. 

In midday twilight made by hemlocks old 

That lean together in the somber woods, 
Close grouped as kindred trees that fain would hold, 
In whisperings low, communion here alone 
Where seldom foot of curious man intrudes 
To press the rounded stone 
Plashed by the headlong rill 
That tumbles down the hill, 
And with green moss o'ergrown. 
There creeps a beauty shy and low 
Beneath the moss, beneath the snow, 
For never does the green vine cease to grow 
In summer's time of heat, in winter's time of cold. 

Made glad with spring-time fancies pearly white, 

Two tender blossoms on a single stem 
In their sweet coral fruitage close unite 

As rounded bead cut from a garnet red; 
And all the year the vine, uplifting them, 
deeps on with cautions tread, 
As if between soft palms 
Its treasure safe from harms 
Was borne above its head. 
Proud of a beauty that abides 
Through all the long year's changing tides 
While in the wolf's - foot deep herself she 
hides, 
Mitchella shows her jewels with delight! 



107 



PE-WIT, PE-WEE. 

Sing, little songster in the tree, 

From thy full heart out-pouring 
The very soul of minstrelsy, 
The joy the morning brings to thee 

As to the lark up -soaring; 
Sing o'er again thy song for me, 
Pe-wit, pe - wee — pe - wit, pe-wee, 
And chant with gentle ecstasy 
The hymn of thy adoring. 

Sing o'er and o'er again for me 

That song the stillness breaking; 
Right well those simple notes agree 
With thy life hid in a lilac tree, 

The noisy world forsaking: 
Repeat once more, and then, please thee, 
Pe-wit, pe - wee — pe - wit, pe-wee 
The sweetest verse of all shall be 
'Mong the verses of my making. 



108 



SWEET-BRIAR. 

In a basin 'mong the hills there lies, 
Blue and clear— the image of the skies — 
Water resting under noon -day bright, 
Sweet resort of fancies gay and light; 

There among the llowers 

Birds are gaily singing, 

Happy, happy hours! 

At the margin of the lake there grows, 
Climbing to the air, a sweet-briar rose, 
Forming with its vine, its leaf and flower, 
O'er the blue, inverted heavens, a bower; 

Its perfume sweet is pleasant, 

By favor of the breezes, 

To lord and peasant. 

From western hill -tops, when the day is done, 
Falls on the rose the strange light of the sun, 
Two opening buds make all the sweet-briar gay 
These both appearing on the self -same day; 
With moisture teeming 
The chill air turns their breath 
To tear-drop's seeming. 



109 



110 



When in the east again the morning shows, 
On from the rising sun a bright ray ilows, 
It breaks upon the briar's buds young and tender, 
Two lovely roses bloom in morning's splendor! 

Then the dew-drops pearly 

Perfume the air about 

In the morning early. 



BOBOLINKS. 

Always happy and gay, 

With a voice that's always ia tune, 
Swinging on willowy spray 
In the meadows over the way, 

Swinging and singing with all their might 

In the summer morning's amethyst light, 
Sit the musical bobolinks; 

And out of their tuneful throats 

A song of magical notes, 

Liquid and melting, floats, 
Softly rises and sinks 

On the warm sweet breath of June. 

Loud and louder they sing 

In the joy of life and of light, 
Wider and wider they swing 
Till they rise on fluttering wing, 

Straining and straining their throats to poui 

The joy from their full hearts brimming o'er 
In a shower of musical rain; 

And that flood of song, heaven - born 

With the golden light of morn, 

Shed over the dewy corn, 

Charms with the sweetest of pain 

To an ecstasy of delight. 



Ill 



112 



Falling and hovering low 

Over the young brood warm in the nest, 

Lullaby cadences flow 

Tenderly, vanishing slow; 

As at first the rollicking jollity rose 
Now soberly lapses the lay to its close 

In the sweetest accents of love. 
Lost are the birds to our view, 
¥et tremulous notes come through 
Bright sparkling crystals of dew 
Bending tall grasses above 

Sweet hearts loved by bobolinks best. 



NODDING THISTLE. 

Adown the slope the breezes bring 

From hazels growing by the wall 
Sweet tender lays the linnets sing, 

The robin's loud and anxious call; 
But softest, sweetest note to-day, 

Heard on this quiet cattle -stead, 
Bright goldfinch weaves into his lay 

While swinging on the thistle - head. 

Adown the slope the breezes bring 

Soft breath of brambles budding new, 
Faint odors sweet that fondly cling 

Round clover wet with early dew; 
But sweeter than the breath of these, 

More potent than their rich perfume, 
Is fragrance sweet that calls the bees 

Around the nectared thistle - bloom. 

Adown the slope the breezes bring 

Dead needles loosened from the pines, 
As butterflies on painted wing 

Go wandering where sweet summer shines; 
But lighter than these needles dry 

Blown from the tall pine's swaying crown, 
Upon these silent winds float by 

White silvery flocks of thistle-down. 



113 



KINGBIRD. 

Harsh tyrant of the air, 
With fear regarded, not with love, 
Not charming with the sweetness of thy song 
Nor with the beauty of thy plumage fair, 
Thou dost compel obedience from the throng 
Of birds that haunt the copse and grove, 
By readiness to dare. 

The careless passer-by, 
The hawk intent upon his prey, 
Swift sliding down the fields on easy wing 
Upon the timid mouse has fixed his eye 
And deems its capture is an easy thing, 
Till in disgust he turns away 
On hearing thy sharp cry. 

Thou hast for ready aid 
The swallow rushing into fight, 
For such fierce bird unequal match alone, 

But by example most courageous made ; 
His cause he thinks one common with thine own ; 
Right quickly puts the foe to flight; 
Safe, being not afraid. 



114 



ST. JOHN'S WORT. 

How cheery, warm and bright 

With golden yellow light 
The hillside pasture this midsummer day, 

As through the fragrant fern 

The starry flowers burn 
With all the brilliancy of noontide ray! 

Was it for this of old — 

This blazing gleam of gold 
From petals shining as from altar flame — 

For token of their praise 

That men in olden days 
Should give St. John's Wort for this flower's name? 

Because its flame was seen 

Kindled in pastures green 
At time when he, the Baptist, came on earth, 

Of whom it was foretold 

By sainted prophets old 
That many should have gladness in his birth ? 

When came the year around, 
With birch and fennel bound, 

This flower our fathers hung above the door 
In mother England dear, 
And so they brought it here 

To keep that home remembered on this shore. 



115 



YELLOW - THROATED WARBLER. 

Fond lover of a lonely spot 

Deep in the silent wood 
Where hound and huntsman enter not, 
Where undisturbed by shout or shot 

The heron rears her brood, 

To-day beside a meadow stream 

My stealthy steps intrude 
Upon the water's quiet dream;— 
Proclaimed by loud kingfisher's scream 

I break this solitude. 

Here in lithe birches leaning o'er 
The sleepy pool's low muddy shore 

This hot, still day in June, 
I hear thy voice from clear throat pour 

A marvelous sweet tune, 
Just spy thee on the birch twigs swinging, 
Thou yellow -throated warbler singing; 
Lilting, tilting, 
Tilting, lilting, 
That swaying movement timing 
Thy music's bell -like chiming 

Rung pendulous and slow 
Till Echo's startled clamoring is stilled 

To thy sweet singing low; 
Till with its rhythmic melody the air about 

is filled, 
And with responsive ectasy thy listener is 

thrilled. 



116 



HAREBELLS. 

Swinging, slowly swinging, 

Harebells rise and fall; 
Clinging, closely clinging, 

To the mountain wall; 
Swinging, slowly swinging, 

Harebells fall and rise; 
Hinging, ever rino'ing, 

Music to the eyes. 

Chiming, softly chiming, 

"With the summer breeze, 
All their music timing 

To the waving trees; 
Ravished with the seeing 

Gladly would we know 
For what favored being 

Tones of harebells flow. 

Blessed, happy creature 

Harebell tones that hears, 
Mystic sounds of nature 

Silent to our ears! 
Oh, ecstatic pleasure, 

Theme for seraph's tongue, 
Listening to the measure 

From the harebells rung! 



117 



VESPER SPARROW. 

The summer evening, warm and still, 

Hears crickets chirping loud and clear; 
From darkening woods below the hill 
Hears veery's low, soft, liquid trill 
Chime in with waters of the rill, 
'Neath alders, running near. 

Sweet, too, the strains of music heard 

The dusty wayside hedge along, 
Out- matching charm of chanted word 
From heart of man, when heart of bird 
With joy of life and love is stirred 
To sing her even -song. 

'Tis from the bay -wing sparrow's breast 
Is poured this melting music free, 

She sits above the secret nest 

Where lie dear hearts she loves the best, 

Sings all the chirping brood to rest 
With this low melody. 

For weary toiler passing by 

This strain his heart with feeling stirs, 
He hears the young ones' twittering cry, 
Their mother's soothing lullaby, 
Hears notes of rapture mounting high, 

Thanks God for cares like hers. 



118 



SWEET MAKIGOLDS. 

Sweet marigolds, so fair and bright, 

At dawn so early waking 
To watch the coming of the light 
That streaks the east with pearly white, 

Above the hill -tops breaking; 
All day ye follow with delight 
The sun, and keep his face in sight, 
Then weary close your eyes at night 

As if to ease their aching. 

We see you turning towards the west 

To watch your regal lover; 
The loyal feeling thus expressed, 
The passion burning in your breast 

Is easy to discover; 
But far from easy to be guessed 
The dreams that in your quiet rest 
Turn you once more to that fond quest 

Before the night is over. 



119 



KINGFISHER. 

Companion moot of heron and of loon, 

Haunting with these tho marge of sluggish stream, 
Or sunken shoro of overflowed lagoon, 

More lonely making this with savage scream ; 

Dead blasted tree blanched by rude wind and storm, 
Wrapped ghostly skeleton of withered birch, 

Its white robe slipping from its shrunken form, 
Outstreches bare white arm, a proffered perch. 

Here dost thou sit in the hot summer's day 
Silent and motionless, thy piercing edght 

Close tracks the path of unsuspecting pre)-, 
Shy pickerel glancing in the noonday light. 

That search unceasing is the watch still kept 
By Halcyon waiting on the island shore ; 

That patient heart and eye have never slept, 
They look for Ceyx coming nevermore. 

That darting flight through bushes by the side 
Of sedgy marshes in the opening spring, 

Recalls that morning when tho maiden died 
And met her mate, restored on equal wing. 

Men say thy back received its coat of blue 
From skies unclouded when the Flood was done, 

Then caught thy breast its gorgeous tawny hue 
In that long flight towards the setting sun. 



120 



BOB WHITE. 

What tender, plaintive call 

In notes of singing bird 
From the wood's edge is heard 
In waning summer or in early fall, 
Repeated o'er and o'er so clear. 
We wonder, as the name we hear, 
Who is this lonesome sprite 
That wants Bob White ? 

When dawns the eastern day, 

When all the birds awake, 
Join in the song to make 
Young morning's gladsome roundelay, 
W T e hear among the liquid notes 
From swelling hearts and straining 
throats, 
That pleading tone invite 
" Bob White! Bob White! " 



121 



122 



When evening's level beams 

The longer shadows throw, 
And these the faster grow 
Across the meadow s and the streams, 
We hear above the even-song 
That winsome calling clear and strong 
Chime with the last good-night, 
" Bob White! Bob White ! " 

Is it that 'mong the birds 

A myth goes with the phrase, 
As in these later days 
Old faiths are veiled beneath our words ? 

As Hylas at the spring was sought, 
Eurydice from Hades brought, 
Is called some errant wight, 
"Bob White! Bob White!" 



HAKDHACK. 

About half -buried boulders, overgrown 
With cold gray lichens and with patches round 
Of yellow moss set in concentric rings; 
Upon rough surface of the weathered stone, 
There stubborn hardhack bold disputes the ground 
With creeping vine, and to its refuge clings. 

Not fed upon by any browsing herd, 
Protection only claiming from the hoof, 
And having this from pasture rock and wall; 
Retreat well noticed by sagacious bird 
Whose nest has hardhack leafage for its roof, 
And close rose-tinted racemes over all. 

Among wild native bushes creeping fast 
O'er our neglected fields and pastures bare, 
How frequent is the blooming hardhack met! 
Its fragrance breathing of a happier past 
When in the mother land with thoughtful care, 
A favored shrub, 'twas in the hedgerows set! 



123 



SPEEDING THE SWALLOW. 

The summer's nigh! fly, swallow, fly! 

The welcome news conveying! 
Tho burden of thy twittering cry, 
The omen presaged to he eye 
That marks thy flight across the sky, 

Admit of no gainsaying. 
A homesick longing makes thee hie, 
Thy anxious cares have urged thee by 

The summer winds delaying. 

The winter's nigh! fly, swallow, fly, 

To overtake the summer! 
For she hath left our northern sky, 
Hath left her flowers to freeze and die; 
Her friends without a last good-bye, 

As little doth become her. 
Hasten thy flight; but here must I 
Bide till the spring, in hope to spy 

Thee then the earliest comer. 



124 



CARDINAL - FLOWEES. 

What royal standards these, 
What banners in the breeze 

That steals adown the brookside beneath the maple 
trees ? 

The stream is running low, 
Its noisy waters go 

Light rippling over worn stones under the August 
glow. 

Both sides the stream to-day 
Unfurl red flags and gay, 

As if confronting armies here were drawn up in 
array. 

What passion could intrude 
To this lone solitude 

To cause the banners of these hosts with blood to 
be imbued! 

Or is it civic scene, 
Brave escort of a queen, 

Or function of the Church or State that in this dell 
is seen ? 

The cardinals to ° day 
Are coming up this way, 

And with Iheir deep- ensanguined cowls they make 
ttiis brave display. 



125 



BLUE JAY. 

October woods with light are all aglow, 

Their summer paths, dim as monastic aisles, 
Are lighted now from golden leaves below, 

Through golden leaves above the sunshine smiles; 
As flames the redbud in the early spring, 

In Indian summer bright the sumach burns, 
Gay as gay butterflies on painted wings 

To red and gold the broad swamp maple turns. 

Gnarled oaks take slowly on their russet brown, 

To twilight paleness silent beeches fade, 
Long ash leaves in the morning flutter down, 

Their dark green deepened to a violet shade; 
The noisy jay comes with its startling cry, 

■ Mid yellow leaves of maple takes its perch ; 
A bit of blue in gold, as if the sky 

Were seen in patches through the faded birch. 



126 



GOLDEN - ROD. 

When in its silvery husk the ripening maize 

Turns all its summer -treasured wealth to gold, 
When up and down the field round pumpkins 
blaze, — 

Benignant planets on our vision rolled — 
Within the corners of the gray stone wall 

Bright yellow golden -rod, of summer born, 
Shows with the milkweeds and rough thistles tall, 

Itself just blooming when matures the corn. 

It bears proud summer's banneret of gold, 

Full spread and flaunting, into early fall, 
Defies the frost, defies September's cold, 

A hardy outcast, triumphs over all, 
With gipsies tenting by the dusty way, 

Preferring spots unkept by human care, 
Warms with its golden light the year's decay, 

And saves the deepening shadows from despair. 



127 



BLACKBIRDS. 

The stillness of our late September days 

Is broken in upon by shrill - toned voices, 
The call of crow, the saucy scream of jays, 

The scolding rant in which chipmu»k rejoices; 
Among- them all the blackbird's frequent note 

Comes from the field -side wood, a constant 
chatter, 
A loud complaining' from so many a throat 

No mortal man can tell what is the matter. 

The wheat and rye were garnered long ago, 

All birds are free to glean upon the stubble, 
Blackbird and jay share with the crafty crow, 

How can it be that there is any trouble ? 
And yet the blackbirds drown the noisy jays 

By keeping up their everlasting clatter, 
I wonder if one bird knows what he says, 

Or one that hears finds out what is the matter. 

On mischief bent, the crow forbears to preach, 

The chipmunk's cheeks are much too full of bad ey, 
Perchance the busy jay forgets to screech, 

On no occasion blackbirds fail to parley; 
Discordant notes are showered Jrom the tree 

As on the shingle roof the raindrops patter, 
It is a blackbirds' gathering at high tea, 

And what the gossip means it does not matter. 



128 



FRINGED GENTIANS. 

Late do you come, alone 
Beneath our chill October skies, 
To meadows stretching on beside the stream, 
As if you had not known 
The long procession which had gone before 

Since when the crocus opened first its eyes, 
First woke from its long dream 

And, peeping through the snow, saw with 
surprise 
Pale daffodils once more; 

Heard bluebirds blithely sing 
'Mid Winter's sudden rout the coming of the 
Spring. 

You have not seen the bloom 
Clothe leafless orchard trees in pink and 
white, 
You have not seen the oriole in his pride, 
Seen golden -flowering broom 
Run over rocky slopes as runs the flame 

Of forest fires burning in the night 
Along a mountain's side; 

Nor have you come in time to catch a sight 
Of our home swallows tame, 
Who all the summer long 

Skimmed over fields made glad with bobolink's 
gay song. 



129 



13W 



Now field's are brown and bare, 
Dull, sober, lying under sober skies, 
And only now is chirp of cricket heard; 
Along the wood's edge where 
Of late the thrushes trilled a pensive song 

The screaming jay across the open flies: 
In color, flower and bird 

As noonday cloud and shadow harmonize. 
To neither do we wrong 
By saying both are blue 
To show that Nature's good - night thought is true 



PURPLE FINCH. 

Brown -coated bird that loves to sing 
While poised upon a rapid wing, 
Content in leafless woods to stay 
Beneath November's skies of gray, 

How sweet to hear 

Those few notes clear 

Ring out on days else sad and drear! 

Bed -hooded cousin to the warm 

Pine Grosbeak braving winter's storm, 

Is it for him you patient wait 

Bound clumps of pine and spruce so late? 

For him you sing 

The song you bring 

So early back again in spring ? 

Or are you loth as we should be 
To leave the cheery chick -a- dee, 
Have you a longing in the spring, 
As we, to hear the blue -bird sing? 

Or do you find 

Among our kind 

Companions suited to your mind ? 



131 



ASTERS. 

The hunter's moon, this cold October night, 

Sheds silver light, 
On either side attendant, lett and right, 

Stars sparkle bright. 

Beneath that glittering splendor, hard and cold, 

Through aether rolled, 
Along the border line 'twixt field and wold 

Pale stars unfold; 

Late asters waiting till the waning year 

Shows foliage sere, 
Till from the stubble cricket's chirping clear 

At night we hear. 

These are the stars attendant on the nod 

Of golden - rod, 
Thick as in spring-time dandelions trod 

The velvet sod. 

With these, in clustered constellations found 

On fallow ground, 
Shedding their starry radiance around, 

The year is crowned. 



132 



BROWN CREEPER. 

Shy,- silent dweller in the lonely wood, 
For fond mates having- cheerful chick-a-dees 
These gloomy days of winter when the trees 

Stand naked, shivering, as if dryads stood 

Trembling for fear of footsteps that intrude 
With thought of havoc where will summer breeze 
Call with soft fragrant breath luxurious bees 

To feast on nectar and ambrosial food; 

For thy sweet sake let not this solitude 
Lose strength to shield, or charm it has to please, 

The timid chicks of Nature's blameless brood. 
Here in these tops of hemlocks gray one sees 

How thoughtful Nature, ever kind and good, 
Spreads tempest -proof, round sheltering tents for 
these. 



188 



WITCH-HAZEL BLOOM. 

Oh ! bitter cold the winds and strong they blow 
From northern hills across the frozen lakes; 

They fiercely drive and mock the falling snow 
That fills the air with dizzy, whirling flakes. 

The summer voices all are hushed and still, 
. There is no hum of insects in the grass, 
The frost forbids the babbling of the rill, 
Beneath the ice the waters silent pass. 

On oak and beech still cling the russet leaves 
To frozen branches in this season drear, 

Through those dead lips the shivering dryad griev< 
The vanished glories of the happier year. 

From leaden skies flock out thick flakes of snow, 
On downy wings of frost they soft alight, 

And on the brown - striped hazel twigs below 
With golden bloom show stars of silver white. 

These yellow petals opening late and rare 
To grace the thicket when the year is done, 

Seem, in their pearly setting, e'en more fair 
Than poppies blushing in the summer's sun. 



134 



CHICK- A- DEE. 

Chick - a - dee, 
Chick - a - dee - dee - dee - dee - dee, 
This bleak December day- 
Sings the titmouse light and gay, 
In his close and comely wrap, 
In his black and jaunty cap, 
While the air is full of snow, 
And the icy flurries blow 

Bitter cold; 
When the ice is on the stream, 
And the sleeping chipmunks dream 

Dreams of old; 
In the woodland all around 
Wailing winds of winter sound, 
Swaying branches snap and creak, 
Pines and hemlocks groan and shriek. 
Music sweet of singing bird, 
Only blithe and gay is heard 

Chick -a- dee, 
Chick - a - deo - dee - dee - dee - dee, 



135 



13b 



Chick - a - dee, 
Chick - a - dee - dee - dee - dee - dee ; 
How that cheery, merry note, 
Sounded from a happy throat, 
All this nook among the hills 
With a quickened memory thrills! 
How its rich and sweet content, 
To the gloom of winter lent, 

Gladdens me! 
Not the lonesomeness that's here, 
Not the dying of the year 

Saddens thee. 
In the leafy woods of June 
When the thrushes are in tune, 
When the thickets are all gay 
With the warbler and the jay, 
Pipe for memory again 
This same cheerful winter strain, 

Chick - a - dee, 
Chick - a - dee - dee - dee - dee - dee. 










flM 



